


Buzz-Cut

by kentucka



Category: Banlieue 13 (2004)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2009-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kentucka/pseuds/kentucka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’d never given it much thought, but their even matched strength was intoxicating - Leïto would resist if he didn’t want to be pushed away, would not bruise when Damien gripped him too hard, and was unrelenting in holding Damien down for sweet torture.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Buzz-Cut

**Author's Note:**

> post-movie (no real spoilers), ignoring B13:U and therefore kind of an AU

Damien sat on the bed in the guest room, studying the obviously new furniture. He was already down to sweats and undershirt, but he could still hear Leïto finishing up in the bathroom, and it felt wrong to go to sleep without saying goodnight to his host. So he contemplated the soft yellow carpet, the light orange wallpaper with the beige swirls, and wondered idly if Lola had selected it after the wall had come down, since it had been her room until she’d moved in with her boyfriend.

He glanced towards the hall, and realized that Leïto, clad only in loose drawstring pants, was leaning against the door-jamb. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard,” his dark-haired friend joked.

Damien smiled, blinked slowly, and Leïto was in front of him, abrupt and much too close, charcoal eyes staring down at him with a softness that had thrown Damien already on the day they’d said their goodbyes in front of the barricade.

He saw Leïto’s hand rise, moving towards his head with a hesitance that requested permission, that allowed all the time Damien could want to back away. He didn’t move until he felt the rasp of Leïto’s hand on the top of his head. His friend watched him with the same unblinking intensity he always had when he tried to make sense of things. Damien chuckled when it tickled but otherwise remained silent while Leïto trailed his fingers over the buzz, down to his neck and up the side to his temple.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Leïto said softly. “Just tell me what you want.”

Damien’s heart skipped a couple of beats and then raced to catch up, his body suddenly light with adrenaline at the feeling of being made, of being read like the open book he had always been to Leïto. All this time they now knew each other didn’t change the fact that Damien wasn’t used to being unable to hide anything from anybody. And all this time, he’d never had an inkling what Leïto thought about this, about them.

Damien snorted a sarcastic laugh to himself, wondering how to even ask for _this_. But he wasn’t stupid, and knew an invitation when he was presented with one. Leïto had him figured out, but he wasn’t disgusted, or even politely declining. Quite the contrary, he was making the first step towards Damien. So, what _did_ he want? The answer should be simple enough. He leaned into the hand cupping his cheek, closed his eyes briefly. “You.”

When he looked at Leïto again, the lust in those eyes was impossible to miss. Damien drew in a sharp breath, and reached for Leïto’s shoulder to pull him down. He didn’t even have to tug; Leïto leaned close so their foreheads and noses touched. For a moment Damien worried Leïto would make him ask after all, with him still not having the first clue how to put it into words, but then the blurry face in front of him moved a little, and suddenly their lips made contact.

Damien no longer had to think about it, instinct taking over. His hands wound themselves through strands of wild black hair; he followed the downward angle blindly as Leïto went to his knees, felt Leïto’s hands on his upper thighs. Teeth caught his lips, tongue twisted inside his mouth and stroked against his own. Leïto kissed like he ran, straightforward and unstoppable, making Damien’s head spin while trying to keep up. And then, Leïto pushed forward with his whole body, demanding that Damien yield, until he was flat against the mattress and Leïto could attack his neck and collarbones.

Damien pulled on the black hair a little so Leïto crawled onto the bed, knees framing Damien’s hips and arms beside his head, and they kissed again. It was alarming how easily Damien could lose himself in these kisses, the feeling of spiky hair slipping between his fingers, the hum of an energetic, strong body right on top of him.

But he wanted more, ran his hand down tattooed shoulders and muscles, dipped his fingers into the ridges on the small of Leïto’s back that led to the waistband of his pants. Leïto moaned, nipping Damien’s jaw and grinding his pelvis down, blatantly seeking friction. Damien loved it, how Leïto could just take without self-consciousness, not holding anything back, always true to himself. Damien let his hands travel lower, gripped the firm buttocks that still moved restlessly and used the leverage to push them both together even harder.

Leïto’s grin turned downright naughty; he tugged impatiently at the hem of Damien’s tank until it was off and out of the way. His hands spread wide over Damien’s pecs, rubbing over his nipples until Damien groaned in approval.

He couldn’t quite understand how they’d gotten here; just a few hours ago they’d been lounging in some old lawn chairs on the rooftop of Leïto’s apartment building, soaking up the late spring warmth, trading stories and drinking beer like a couple of old buddies. And now, Leïto was tonguing Damien’s nipples, eliciting desperately horny sounds from him that Damien’d be mortally embarrassed about if they didn’t make Leïto smile so proudly.

Damien’s hands were back touching all he could reach of his friend’s skin, wrapped tightly around the straining muscles in Leïto’s upper arms. He’d never given it much thought, but their even matched strength was intoxicating - Leïto would resist if he didn’t want to be pushed away, would not bruise when Damien gripped him too hard, and was unrelenting in holding Damien down for sweet torture.

Little shocks went through Damien each time Leïto hit a particular sensitive spot on his chest or sides. Quickly, it became too much and by far not enough, all at once. “Leïto,” he urged, while his friend was biting each of his abdominal muscles in turn. “Get rid of the clothes?”

Leïto looked up at him. “Ha, I knew you only wanted to get in my pants.”

Damien retaliated by hitting him in the arm, hard. “Bastard,” he laughed, “Get it on with, will you? Stop playing with me.”

“Only ever in the good way.” Leïto hooked his fingers into Damien’s sweats and pulled them down, regarding Damien’s erection for a moment, before he got off the bed and stepped out of his own drawstring pants as well. Then he was back, face to face, with the darkest eyes and cutest smile Damien had ever cared to notice on a man. Leïto slowly lowered himself, touching them together from mouth to thighs, pressing Damien down into the mattress even as Damien couldn’t quite keep his hips from bucking upwards into the silky heat of another’s stomach and groin, increasingly slick with their combined precome.

Working together towards a common goal, they both ground and twisted against each other, Damien never allowing them to stop trading kisses even as they turned sloppy with breathlessness. When Damien snaked a hand between them and grasped both their cocks, squeezing the heads together and starting a counterpart rhythm to their thrusting, Leïto panted a few choice cusswords hotly against Damien’s shoulder.

Damien grinned to himself, feeling Leïto’s sweat trickle down onto his own chest. The fingers of his free hand scratched at Leïto’s back, slid around to pinch one of his nipples, then grabbed his hair again to tilt his head up for another press of lips and lick of tongues. Damien was so far gone, he could feel the tingling in his toes and the way his focus centered on his cock, on the slick-silk-heat and pressure surrounding it, on Leïto’s moans.

But then Leïto pushed himself up, twisting his hips into Damien’s fist forcefully, and came, all the while staring straight into Damien’s eyes. That look, vulnerable, trusting, and such open bliss, was Damien’s undoing. He threw his head back into the linen, and almost bucked Leïto off while his orgasm hit him.

Spent and satisfied, his feet still hanging over the side of the bed and with Leïto sprawled out on top of him, Damien grunted his general appreciation of the whole situation. Leïto shifted to steal another kiss, and settled back against Damien’s shoulder, before both promptly fell asleep.


End file.
